


Feathers and Forever

by Tilltheendwilliwrite



Series: Christmas Drabble Day 2018 [17]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Smut, тэг заменён на Don't copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 18:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17126675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tilltheendwilliwrite/pseuds/Tilltheendwilliwrite
Summary: grace-for-sale asked:Could I please request a Christmas Drabble? ClintxReader and celebrating Christmas Day together?





	Feathers and Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Part Three of the Feathers Series

 

* * *

 

* * *

It was Christmas eve at the tower, and the party was winding down. Unlike Tony’s regular parties, this one was different. It wasn’t a rager, just a quiet party with the people who worked here, but instead of going until dawn like usual, this one only lasted until midnight. At that time, Tony would invite everyone to catch a cab or take the waiting car service to get home so they could spend the holiday with their families where they belonged.

Of course, for you and the others, this was your family, and you smiled at Clint in his spiffy tux as he swayed with you through one last dance before you too would leave. You hummed softly to the music and leaned your head on his chest. His chin came down on the top of your head, a content near purr rumbling beneath your ear.

It made you smile for it had been almost a year ago you’d discovered that habit of his when he was happy — the quiet little noises of contentment that so easily slipped into the silences between conversations. Nearly a year ago he’d saved your life in the wilds of Russia, catching you when you’d left the plane without a parachute, hauling your stupid ass through the snow and keeping you from dying of hypothermia. He’d always been your secret crush and real-life hero, but that night he’d become so much more.

Then, six weeks later, after returning home and finding out you’d broken your neck, you’d become inseparable. He’d been there every step of the way, watching over you, helping you, and though he drove you a little batty with his constant hovering, you couldn’t help but fall head over heels in love with the smart-mouthed, acrobatic, archer.

Those acrobatic skills of his came in handy when Helen had cleared you to return to life - if not work - and you’d taken Clint on your first date, one that had ended with the two of you snuggled up together in a room at the Four Seasons Hotel. You’d done your best to rouse noise complaints from the neighbours that night.

Since then, you’d been on many more dates. Some opulent, some sweet, some as simple as pizza and a movie, but each had ended the same way. Falling into each other’s arms and expressing your love. You’d had fights, arguments, and disagreements. There had been new accidents and injuries taken by both of you, but through it all, your relationship stood strong, even when you wanted to kick him out of his nest.

“You wanna get outta here?” he murmured against your hair.

“Yeah.” You lifted your head to smile at him and were unsurprised when he kissed you. “Mm, Barton. You taste like peppermint.”

“It was the Schnapps,” he snickered, leading you from the floor toward the exit. He waved at Natasha who only smirked from her position beside Steve. She was stroking the man’s tie most suggestively, and you doubted they’d last much longer with the party either.

He guided you into the elevator, but when you expected him to turn and press you into the wall, kiss you breathless, and cop a feel, he only held you close. There was a quiet confidence to him you’d rarely seen outside a mission. Usually, he was one to fidget a little, but tonight he remained still and poised, and in his suit, he reminded you of Bond. James Bond.

“I’ve got something for you,” Clint murmured as the doors opened onto your level.

“Ooh, Christmas Eve presents? Gimme!”

He chuckled and guided you down the hall. “Greedy. Don’t you know ‘gimme gimmes never get’?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Well, what if I have something for you too?”

“Gimme!” he squealed and shoved open the door to your suite with enthusiasm.

You laughed but headed for the bedroom where you drew the wrapped box from within your underwear drawer.

“Gah!” He smacked his forehead. “Now why didn’t I think to look there?”

“I brought this in before we left for the party. All the rest of your stuff I gave to Natasha to keep you from snooping.”

“Cruel, but effective,” he grumbled.

“I know you pretty well by this point, Barton.” You held out the box.

He took it and sat on the bed. “Catch.” He pulled a ball from somewhere - at this point, you’d stopped asking where these things came from and just accepted they’d randomly appear from the void when he wanted them too - and chucked it against the wall. It ricocheted twice, cracked off the overhead vent and had the screen falling open. From inside a box spilled out, falling into your arms as he caught the ball and tucked it away.

It made you giggle. “You could just give it to me like a normal person.”

“Who wants normal? You first.”

Another giggle erupted as you sat beside him. The size and flatness of the box made you smile. “Is this one of those presents that you buy saying its for me, but really it’s for you?”

“Would I do that?” he grinned broadly.

“Yes!” you laughed and tore into the paper. The white clothing box inside made you shake your head as you lifted the lid and dug through the tissue paper only to burst out laughing again. Though you’d expected lingerie, this was so much better. You lifted the sleep shirt from within, big and grey and oversized, just the way you liked them and smirked at the logo. “Are you trying to brand me, Hawkeye?” His official Avengers symbol was pressed to the front.

“Nah. Just, if you're gonna wear those things to bed all the time, might as well wear one with a decent Avenger on it.”

You leaned closer and cupped his chin, the smirk permanent on your lips. “Aww. Are you still jealous about the one with Cap’s shield on it?”

“I’m used to that one,” he mumbled, “but do you gotta wear the Thor one? Jeez, woman! You’ll give an old guy a complex!”

You snickered and kissed him. “You’re not old, and I love it and you.”

“Good. I thought about buying seven, one for every day of the week so you can throw out those other ones, but thought I’d see how it went with one first.”

“That’s sweet and weird. Hey, just like you,” you giggled.

“Woman,” he growled and reached for you, but you pushed him back.

“Your turn.”

He sat back and shook the box. “Feels like underwear.” He had an uncanny ability to do that, randomly guess unique contents. It would have been annoying if he wasn’t still super cute and excited when he opened the gift. He tore off the paper and belted out a laugh. “Great minds!”

“Think alike,” you finished, giggling at the package of Hawkeye underwear in his hand. They were a blend of black and maroon and just corny enough to suit his personality.

“I love it.” He leaned over and kissed your cheek. “So.” His smile turned sly. “What you got on under that dress?”

You stood and turned your back to him. “Undo it and find out.”

“Challenge accepted.” His hands were already guiding down the zipper of your strapless floor length red gown.

You held the dress up until the zipper was all the way down, then watched over your shoulder as you let it fall.

“You… that’s… you… _hnnng_.”

Clint sat down while you laughed and turned to face him. “Merry Christmas, Barton.” Red ruffled panties with dangling white pom poms complemented the thigh high red and white striped socks you wore. And that was all you wore when you stepped out of your heels and straddled his lap.

“Naughty Claus. Just what I wanted,” he quipped when he found his voice.

You chuckled, well used to his smart mouth. “Can I have Naughty Claus in return?”

He shook his jacket down his arms and threw it on the floor. “You can have whatever you want.”

Between the two of you, his clothes came off until only his pants remained, and you stood up to get them off. He was already hard, and you made sure and dragged your knuckles along his length while you lowered his zipper. Then you shimmied his pants down and promptly burst out laughing at his boxers. Christmas ornaments adorned them along with the words “I like big Christmas balls.”

“You’re not supposed to laugh at my balls.”

“Then you shouldn’t make them so corny.”

He snickered before scooping you off your feet and throwing you on the bed. “Shit, all you need is the hat, and you really could be naughty Mrs. Claus.”

From beneath your pillow, you drew a Santa hat. “You mean like this?”

His eyes lit up. “Fuck! Is it any wonder I love you?”

You chuckled and put on the hat. “Perv. It’s a good thing I love you so much.” He pounced as soon as you finished, making you shriek in delight. It became a moan and whimper when his hands, rough and calloused from the hours he put in with the bow, began to explore your skin slowly.

His lips closed on your nipple. His tongue swirled around it, and teeth gently scraped over the swiftly growing pebble. There was no hurry — no urgency. Clint was savouring every moment, licking and lapping at your skin. He seemed determined to taste every inch of you, and you let him while carding your fingers through his hair.

“This is just so great,” he murmured, tucking his fingers into your underwear. “You’re like a present, wrapped and waiting for discovery.”

“Well, I did wish you Merry Christmas. Maybe you should unwrap your present?”

He chuckled as he moved down your body, teeth nipping a ruffle and pulling up until you underwear pulled taut and snapped back.

You yelped and glared at him. “Rude.” He only grinned and grabbed another ruffle, growling and shaking it like a puppy until you laughed and shoved at him. “Get off!”

“Oh, I will,” he snickered.

“You’re so lame with these jokes, Barton.” But you loved them, just like you loved him, and reached down to encourage him up where you could kiss him and run your hands down his body. Everything about him did it for you. Sculpted and defined, he had the body of a man used to hard work.

Jokes went out the window as you laid there, Clint’s arm around your waist, kissing and cuddling, legs tangled together. His hands on your body were like slow-moving flames, stoking and stroking an inferno to life as your nerve endings came alive. The gentle pull of his teeth on your lip made you moan.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, knocking the hat from your head when he ran his fingers through your hair. “I never get tired of looking at you.”

You smiled and drew him closer for another round of kisses that left you breathless. Then he was shifting over you, and the kisses moved to your throat, down your collarbone and back to your breasts. His hands touched and explored, reverent brushes of callused fingers that left you aching and burning beneath him.

“Clint?” you gasped, a little confused by the softness when he was usually so playful.

He placed a kiss over your heart. “Relax, beautiful. Just enjoy.”

How were you supposed to relax when desire flowed in your veins like slow-moving lava, following the path of those tender lips and gentle hands, touching you, worshiping you. He had you seeing stars and you’d barely begun. More noises than you knew you could make were falling from your parted lips as he worked you slowly into a frenzy.

When, finally, after what seemed an eternity, he made his way to your ruffled underwear again, all it took was the nudge of his nose against your cloth covered core to send you reeling into ecstasy and arching from the bed. A chuckle - all pride - accompanied the pulsing of your blood through your veins and the shaking of your thighs.

Those same sneaky, strong fingers tugged your underwear down your hips. “We’re leaving the socks on. Those are just sexy as fuck,” Clint murmured, but you couldn’t tell if he was talking to you or himself.

He slipped from the end of the bed, taking your underwear off your feet as he went. He dropped them on the ground, then shoved his boxers down, revealing Barnabas in all his hard, glistening glory.

You held out your hand. “Why don’t you bring me what’s mine, Mr. Barton.”

He swallowed thickly, continuing only to stare. “Just give me a minute. This is… _hnn_.” His hand wrapped around his cock and squeezed.

You swivelled around and up on your knees and plopped the discarded Santa hat back on your head. “C’mon, naughty Santa. Bring me those big Christmas balls,” you simpered and smirked and cupped your breasts.

“Fuck me sideways,” he growled and launched himself at you, sending you tumbling to your back in peels of all new laughter. “You know just how to get me going, don’t you?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I should certainly hope so.”

He used his thighs to spread yours apart. “I had so many plans, was going to do so many things to you,” he curled a hand around the back of your neck and squeezed causing your breath to hitch, “but I just want you so bad, darlin’. It’s like every thought I had is gone, and all I want is to be inside you.”

“Baby,” you purred and wrapped your legs around his hips. “Make love to me.”

He pumped his hips twice, sliding his hard shaft over your wet lips, coating himself in your earlier release before pressing slowly through your tight walls. You whimpered and moaned, feeling the same exquisite pleasure as the first time all over again. Stuffed so full it was hard to breathe, and you glided your hands down his back. Scars and scar tissue rippled along with the muscles of his shoulders as Clint braced himself over you and began to move.

There was such a wealth of tenderness in his actions, so much love, you gasped and shook as the climax built swiftly in your belly. Tears burned your eyes, and you closed them to keep them at bay. Clint settled his body on yours, holding you close as he buried his face in your throat.

Clinging to each other as the pleasure built, you couldn’t help but feel so cherished, so adored, so loved, and cried out when the twisting, coiling, burning desire flashed into flame and consumed you in its heat.

Clint held still, moaning in your ear as your walls flexed around him. “Fuck, woman. The things you do to me.”

You smirked to yourself and dragged your nails down his back. “Roll over, and I’ll do more.”

He went, taking you with him. Somehow the hat stayed on, the white pom pom smacking you in the cheek when you landed making you giggle. He grinned and gave it a flick before helping you sit back. “I think I found a new fetish,” he murmured, eyes wide as he took you in.

The swelling of his cock to impossibly hard inside you confirmed how much he liked the view. “Perv,” you teased and rolled your hips.

“I'm your perv.”

That he was, and you loved every single weird, wonderful, wild, crazy thing he did or suggested you do in bed, or out of it depending on the mood. For a guy who claimed to be “old” he certainly had never acted that way. Clint had stamina for days and the strength to back it up.

You rose over him, rolling and riding, loving the feel of his thick length. Then his fingers linked with yours and you looked down to find him watching you with such love you couldn’t look away. The moment of connection stretched on and on, and when he released your hands to take you by the waist and help guide you down on him, he never looked away. Those green eyes held you in their thrall, kept you right there with him. Even as the burn in your belly burst into fireworks, you couldn’t look away and cried out his name. The tears you’d been fighting dripped down your cheeks.

Clint sat up and pulled your legs around him. “Love you so much, darlin’.” He took your ass in his hands and rocked you gently on him.

Sat in the center of the bed, you held him to you, clutched him close, shaking with the intensity of your emotions. His lips left tender kisses on your throat. His hands flexed. The glide of his cock left you gasping as new pleasure grew, building like a bubbling pool of lava, rising and rising until it erupted and left you limp from the pulsing, throbbing bliss.

Clint groaned and jerked you down, fighting through you clenching walls to find his end, filling you with more warmth as he came, a satisfied growl rippling from his throat.

You rested against his shoulder, tears still dripping down your cheeks.

“You alright, Y/N?” Clint asked, lightly stroking your back.

“Yeah.” You sat up and smiled, wiping at your face. “Sometimes you make me feel so much.”

The worry softened from his face. “That’s good, cause you make me have all the feels.”

A smirk twitched your lips. “Yeah? All the feels?”

“Yeah, babe. All the feels.” He patted your butt and lifted you off him when his phone, buried somewhere in the pile of discarded clothing, beeped twice.

You slipped from the bed and picked up your new nightshirt before heading for the bathroom. As your phone hadn't also beeped, you knew it wasn’t likely anything you should worry about, and left him to it.

A few minutes later when you exited the bathroom, he jerked his head up, and quickly tossed his phone on his nightstand.

He had “guilty” written all over him. It instantly made you suspicious. “Everything okay?”

“Fine. Just Nat.” He smiled, grabbed up his new shorts, and hurried past you into the bathroom.

You arched a brow as he went, then looked at his phone through narrowed eyes. He was being weirder than usual. First the super romantic lovemaking, now the guilty flush on his face, and the fact he hadn’t commented about you leaving the socks on with your new attire, something you knew he’d appreciate all set off alarm bells in your head.

“What did you do, Barton?” you murmured as you sat on the bed and stared at his phone.

You reminded yourself three times you trusted him. He would never be unfaithful. He wasn’t the kind to cheat. But the secretive way he’d just acted was so out of character. 

You shook your head and turned away. You trusted him. You wouldn’t invade his privacy by snooping through his phone no matter how badly you wanted to and climbed into bed on your side after peeling off your socks.

Curled up on your side, you faced away from him -- a sour note now discolouring what had been a perfect start to Christmas.

***

Clint watched Y/N laugh and smile as one and all opened presents, but there was a sadness that seemed to hang over her now.

Everything had gone so well. Last night had been amazing. It was the perfect opportunity to present her with the ring burning a hole in his pocket, but he’d choked when she’d returned from the bathroom.

Nat had texted him, asking if it was done yet. He’d replied not yet, and she’d told him to sack the fuck up and get it done.

He’d wanted to. There was nothing he wanted more than to ask Y/N to marry him, but Christ! He was nervous, and it was harder than people thought to stick yourself out there like that. What if she said no? What if she didn’t want the whole marriage, kids, dog thing? They’d never really talked about it, but all he wanted, his entire future, he couldn’t see any of it without her in it.

If he asked, and she said no, it would kill him.

“What the hell did you do?” Natasha hissed near his ear, making Clint jump.

“Nothing!”

“Bullshit!” she snapped. “Why didn’t you ask her? What did you do that made her look so sad?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “I came out of the bathroom after talking to you intending to ask her, only she was curled up as far from my side of the bed as she could get. She only does that when she’s pissed off, and I don’t know what I did to piss her off.”

“Well, maybe you should go talk to her and figure it out. Sack the fuck up, Barton!” She slapped him in the back of the head and walked away.

He was rubbing the spot, glaring after her, when Y/N walked over. “What you do to piss Nat off?”

“Pissed you off,” he grumbled, internally cursing the wonder that was the female mind.

“I’m not pissed off.”

He turned to her with a raised brow. “Really? Then why wouldn’t you even look at me after last night? I know I did something, I just don’t know what.”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “You didn’t do anything.”

“That’s a load of bull. C’mon.” He grabbed her hand before she could protest and dragged her out the door.

“You don’t have to drag me along like I’m four, Barton.”

He shot her a look, found her pouting but didn’t comment, knowing it would only dig his current hole deeper. In the elevator, he punched the button for the top floor and backed her into the wall. “What did I do? That was the most incredible experience of my life. I felt so connected to you, but I come out of the bathroom and find you all huddled up on your side of the bed, faking sleep. You only do that when you’re pissed at me, so spill!”

She blinked her gorgeous eyes at him, then narrowed them menacingly. “What are you hiding?”

Clint jerked back. “What?”

“You think you know me so well, but I know you too, Clint!” The doors opened out onto the window surrounded lounge at the top of the tower where the party had taken place the night before, and she stormed out into the empty room. The cleaners hadn’t even been through yet, though the caterers had cleaned up the food. “What was that last night? With your phone and the really intense sex and the guilt on your face?”

“Guilt?” His brows drew together as he frowned. “It wasn’t guilt.”

“Then what was it, Barton? You don’t just ignore things like the fact I left the thigh highs on to toss down your phone and run out of the room.”

It really was stupid how well she knew him. “Nat made me nervous, okay.”

She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Why? And don’t try and joke your way out of this. If we’re done, or there’s someone else, just fucking sack up and tell me!”

She was close to tears again, and Clint’s heart shot to his throat. “Christ! Is that what you thought? Oh, babe.” No wonder she’d been so sad. “No, darlin’. There’s no one but you.”

“Then what?” She swiped at the first tears falling down her face.

Clint dug his phone out of his pocket and pulled up the conversation with Natasha and handed it to Y/N. “That’s it.”

“Done what? Sack up and do what?” she frowned.

“This.” Clint drew the ring box out of his pocket and lowered to a knee.

She dropped his phone, but Clint saved it with a quick grab of his free hand. “Holy shit…”

“Yeah,” he smirked. “I wasn’t trying to figure out how to tell you I was leaving; I was trying to get up the balls to ask you to be mine.”

“Oh, my God, Clint…” She lifted the lid on the ring box and gasped, tears falling freely. “An arrow.”

“Arrows are kind of our thing,” he chuckled and plucked the ring he’d had made for her from the box. The shaft of the arrow created the band, but the fletching and head held the square cut diamond floating between them. “It all started with feathers and frostbite.” He ran his thumb over the fletching on the ring. “Want to make it feathers and forever?”

She gasped a laugh and nodded. “Yes, you utter loon! Hell, yes!”

He slipped the ring on her finger and admired the sparkle for a moment before looking up at her. “I can’t believe you thought I was stepping out on you.”

“I didn’t, not at first. I trust you implicitly, Clint, but then it just kept eating at me that you were hiding something and I got more and more upset.” She dropped down to sit straddling his lap. “Next time just sack the fuck up!”

He chuckled and kissed her. “Promise.”

“Excuse the interruption,” Friday said, “but Natasha says, and I quote, “Get your asses back down here so we can see the ring,” end quote.”

Y/N chuckled even as she admired the ring. “You didn’t let her see it beforehand?”

Clint collected her fingers and brushed his thumb over it, happy to finally see it where it belonged. “Nope. Kept it a complete secret. You got to see it first.”

“It’s perfect.” She kissed him, soft and slow, and with a whole lotta tongue until Clint was laying her back on the rug in the middle of the lounge when Natasha’s voice ripped through the speakers.

“Barton! Move your ass!”

Y/N burst out laughing and grinned up at him. “To be continued?”

“That woman is so bossy,” he huffed but climbed off his girl and tugged her to her feet. He held her still for a minute longer and whispered against her cheek, “Merry Christmas, darlin’.”

She cupped his face for one more kiss. “Merry Christmas, Clint.”

He smiled and took her hand to lead her back to the elevator. When the doors closed, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckle above his ring. “Love you, babe.”

A sweet smile curled her lips. “Clint. I love you too.”

She was still smiling at him when the doors came open, and he scooped her off her feet, ran back into the room where everyone waited and screamed, “She said Yes!” at the top of his lungs.

Y/N covered her face with her hands and groaned, “Oh, my God! You’re so corny!”

“And now I’m all yours,” he smirked down at her as everyone cheered.

Her hand caught his chin and tugged him down. “Forever.”

“And a day,” he agreed.

-The End-

 


End file.
